Trish once again found herself sitting beside Christian, only this time, they were not in the waiting room, but a few steps away from Stacy's room. She glanced across the hall at the closed door, and she sighed. The room was so silent she could hear the large clock on the wall, ticking with each second that passed. She glanced over at Christian, noticing that he was drifting off again, his head nodding as he struggled to stay awake. Trish laughed softly, a small smile playing on her lips as she watched her friend fighting sleep. Shaking her head, she drew her gaze away, her dark eyes managing to find John Cena.
The young man stood a few steps down the hall, his back pressed against the wall. Trish studied him for a moment, watching him as he kicked the wall repeatedly with the back of his heel. Taking a deep breath, she stood, leaving Christian behind as she decided to go talk to him. She approached him hesitantly, the butterflies in her stomach coating over the anxiety she felt in worrying about Stacy. She stepped up to him, and it wasn't until she was directly in front of him that she realized she didn't know what to say.
"Hi..." she began nervously.
At first, she thought he didn't even hear her, judging by the fact that he didn't move a muscle, let alone acknowledge her. Then, without a word, he turned to her, his blue eyes locking with hers. Trish swallowed hard, suddenly finding herself short of breath as he stared her down. She had never seen such a look in his eyes before. He looked so intense and so focused, yet so lost and frightened at the same time. She could only imagine how he must have been feeling, after hearing about Stacy and following that stunt he pulled in the lobby. Her gaze still locked with his, Trish reached out and took his hand in hers.
"I... I just wanted to say thank you. For that story you told them out there," she said softly.
"Story?" John asked, speaking for the first time. "That was no story, Trish. Stacy really is my sister."
Her expression turned confused, and she raised her eyebrow in a questioning manner. Taking a step back, she looked up at him in disbelief.
"Are you serious?"
"Very," he replied, his tone sincere. "Stacy really is my sister... well, my half sister. We have the same father. My mom and dad split up, and my dad ended up moving to Baltimore and hookin' up with Stace's mom."
Trish's mouth gaped open, her eyes wide with shock. While she was unbelievably grateful that he had shown up at the hospital, she truly thought he was making up the entire story about his relation to the blonde woman.
"Oh my God," she said in a hushed tone. "I had no idea..."
"Yeah, well, we figured it'd be best if we kept it a secret. Actually, I don't think Stacy would have cared, but I preferred it that way. Our circles of friends aren't exactly the same, and I didn't want any of the boys who had beef with me thinkin' they could get to me by messing with her," he explained, noting the still baffled look on Trish's face.
He pushed himself off the wall, starting to walk away. He gave Trish a nod, gesturing for her to follow him. The pair slowly walked back down the hall, in the direction of Stacy's room. They stopped in front of the window, and John peered through the small openings in between the blinds. He couldn't make out much, but he caught a glimpse of whom he knew to be Chris Jericho, sitting on the edge of the bed. He had offered to let the blonde man go in to visit Stacy first. Even though he was worried sick about his sister, he knew how long Chris had been waiting, and how he was dying to see her. A few more minutes wouldn't kill him.
"I never even met Stace till she was 17, but I feel like I've known her her entire life. We've gotten so close over the years. She... she doesn't deserve shit like this. I knew from the beginning that Test wasn't good enough for her," he said, staring at the white blinds before him.
"I guess when you're someone's big brother, no one's really good enough," Trish said lightly, sending him a half smile. John laughed, shaking his head a bit.
"Nah, I'm not that bad. There are a few I approve of," he commented, tilting his head in Chris's direction. "You think he'd be good to her?" Trish smiled, giving him a confident nod.
"If he's not in love with her I don't know the meaning of the word. He *really* likes her, John. I've known Chris for years, and I've never seen him so head over heels for someone. He'd be perfect for her."
John nodded thoughtfully, his gaze dropping down between the two of them. It was then that he saw their hands, his breath catching slightly in the back of his throat as he realized their fingers were still entwined together. All of the feelings he had for her, the emotions that Trish Stratus brought out him, good and bad, were still there, he just didn't didn't have the will nor the energy to deal with them. Despite how angry he was with her, and how hurt he was by her actions, he needed her. Both of them were in need of some serious comforting, even if that meant finding it in each other.
* * * *
From inside Stacy's room, Chris yawned, his eyelids growing heavy. He reached up and smacked himself lightly on the face, waking himself up a bit. He refused to let himself fall asleep, not after all the waiting he'd done just to get a chance to see her. He sighed, taking another peek at the fallen blonde, who still remained unconscious. He'd questioned the doctors when he entered, finding it odd that she still hadn't woken up. That was when they'd explained that her injuries - specifically the ones to her head - were more severe than they appeared.
He studied her silently, running a finger down the side of her beautiful face. As he thought of how strongly he felt for the tiny blonde, and how concerned he was for her well being, his eyes watered. He shook his head, desperately blinking back the tears. Taking a deep breath, Chris removed his hand from under Stacy's chin, covering her hand - which was resting on her stomach - with his own.
He recalled hearing somewhere before that it was good to speak to those who were unconscious, that they could hear what was being said even though they couldn't respond. He used to think such a theory to be a little stupid, but at the moment, he was willing to try. Anything was worth a shot.
"Stacy," he said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. "Stacy, it's me, Chris. I just wanted you to know that you're not alone. Christian's here, Trish is here... even John is here. We're worried about you, Stacy. Please wake up, or give me some kind of sign, so I know you hear me. We love you... *I* love you."
He watched her intently as he awaited for any type of reaction from her. He waited and waited, but got nothing. Biting his lip, Chris pulled away, brushing back the tears again. He glanced over at the clock, noting how long he'd been in there. John and the others were awaiting a chance to visit as well, so he sighed, standing up. He lowered his head, tearing his gaze off of her and slowly walking to the door.
"Don't... don't go."
Upon hearing the sound of Stacy's voice, Chris froze in his tracks, his stomach dropping. Although her voice sounded feeble, a wave of relief washing over him as he saw her, her brown eyes wide open.
"Stacy!" he cried, hurrying back to her. He wrapped an arm around her, pressing a kiss to the opposite side of her stitched head. "You scared me so bad."
Despite the agonizing pain she was in, Stacy managed a smile. She said nothing, simply lifting her arm and wrapping his around his waist. She held onto him tightly, as though she were silently begging him to stay.
"I have to go soon," he said reluctantly. "John, Trish, and Christian will want to..."
"I know," she said weakly. "Just don't leave. Please, Chris, don't ever leave me."
Her words wrenching at his heart, Chris pulled her to him, hugging her tightly. Placing his hand on the back of her head, he stroked her hair, vowing right then and there that he would stay by that woman's side for the rest of his life if that was what she wanted. He looked at her, gazing at her with tender blue eyes as he replied.
"Never..."